The Autopsy Gremlin
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: There is a problem in the Autopsy: someone is taking things.


_The Autopsy Gremlin_

"Mr. Palmer..."

He looked up from the table he was cleaning, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Yes, Doctor?"

The M.E. searched through the stored instruments a moment more before straightening and shutting the doors. "Mr. Palmer, I hardly think the job 'finished' when half the instruments are not returned after being cleaned. We may work with the dead, but that is no excuse to be sloppy."

"What? No, I put all of the tools away."

"Then where have the scissors and the scalpel gone, Mr. Palmer? Have we a gremlin here after all?"

"No, that can't be right..." He got up and crossed the autopsy, pulling the drawer open and sifting through the tools himself. Softly muttering the names to himself as he ran down the checklist, he straightened abruptly when there were still two missing. "I-I don't know, Dr. Mallard." He backed away, "I'll check the sink."

"Please do, Mr. Palmer." He sighed, Walking around the autopsy to check that all of the rest of their equipment was put away. He finished with no other missing items, and his assistant staring at the instruments in confusion.

"I _know_ I cleaned them, Dr. Mallard! And then I put them right back in here as always!"

Ducky sighed. "It doesn't matter now – please go fetch the another scalpel and pair of scissors from the storeroom, Mr. Palmer, while I prep our newest guest."

"Yes, Doctor."

* * *

"...Dr. Mallard, you didn't by any chance move the cutters, did you?"

"No, Mr. Palmer, they were stored just as they should be." He turned away from the slab. "Why didn't you set it out before?"

"I did! Well, I thought I did; but then I looked for it again and it wasn't there so I thought maybe I had forgotten to get it out..." He gestured toward the empty space. "It's missing too."

"Are you quite certain?"

"Yes, Doctor! You checked too!"

He sighed, turning back to the body for a moment. "You will have to excuse our tardiness – it seems that we have a gremlin in the autopsy. Mr. Palmer, if you would be so kind to fetch the spares that Abigail keeps in her automobile?"

"Yes, at once..."

* * *

The elevator doors slid open. "Doctor, Abby says that she didn't drive to work today – something about bats or cats in the engine or something?" He stopped when he saw that the ribs had already been cut out. "...you found them, Doctor?"

"Yes." He paused in his work, looking up. "Abigail came down to fetch some samples and found them beside the cooler."

"But-"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer, I am quite certain that they were not there before." He straightened and pointed to the tray of instruments. "Likewise that I am quite certain that forceps do not transfigure themselves into a Gothic-styled pencil – Hello, Abigail."

The assistant stepped aside as the forensic scientist slid into the room. "Ducky! I lost my – there it is!" She jumped forward and snatched up the pencil, nearly knocking several other instruments from the tray to the floor.

"Abby. How much Caf-Pows have you had?"

"Hm?" She bounced around to look at Palmer. "Gibbs just brought me another so I think I've had...four? Or five? Bye!"

* * *

"Mr. Palmer, I think we had better simply put him away until perhaps tomorrow."

"Why, Doctor? We're almost done now!"

"Yes. But it seems that we have lost our scalpel again, as well as the saw and needle." He pulled off his gloves with a sigh. "It isn't a murder anyway – he will keep until we find out who is doing this."

He frowned as the M.E. walked out of the autopsy, then shrugged and began putting away the body and cleaning up what little instruments they had left.

* * *

"Hey, Ducky."

"Jethro, I have had quite enough of my tools disappearing."

He set the pen down and leaned forward listening to his Medical Examiner as he explained the misadventures of the day.

"Maybe it was the Gremlin."

He sighed, turning to look at Dinozzo. "It was not Mr. Palmer, Anthony, if that is what you are referring to – an actual gremlin, however..."

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!" She slid to a stop beside his desk, bouncing lightly on her toes. "I finished them!"

"Finished what? Abby, what did you finish? Gibbs? Ducky?" Tony looked around the desks. "Does anyone tell the Special Agent anything?"

She turned to him. "You can come too! But you should probably only have two so you don't get a sugar-high."

" _I_ don't get a – right. Don't get a sugar-high." He subsided as both Ducky and Gibbs looked at him, following the others to the elevator and then to the Goth's lab. "What are we getting? What's _Probie_ doing here?"

"McGee here helped me make something for all of you."

"...Dr. Mallard? Abby said I needed to be here?"

"Yes, Mr Palmer – it seems Abigail has made something for each of us."

"Really? That's nice!"

She smiled, turning around to pick up small paper plates and give one to each team member. On each was a batch of gingerbread men – and women – cut and decorated to look like each team member. Folder her hands behind her back, she bounced lightly as she waited for them to taste themselves.

"Wow – these are delicious, Abby! I didn't know you could cook!"

Jimmy carefully took a bite of his. "This explains the sugar-high from earlier – hey!" He set his plate down and skirted to group to go to her office. "Dr. Mallard!" He turned back holding several metal instruments. "I found our missing tools!"

Abby turned around to look at him, tilting her head. "Yeah – I couldn't bring my kitchen to work, so I borrowed your things, Ducky." She turned back to the M.E. "Thanks for finding my pencil again though!"

The blood drained from Tony's face and he gagged as he spat out the bite of third cookie he had been eating. "You made these with Ducky's _autopsy_ tools?"

Gibbs smiled and shrugged taking a bite of his. "It seems there is more than one autopsy gremlin..."

* * *

 _AN: Written for Samsquatch67 for Christmas. This is pointless and terrible – but it was an amusing thought. Inspired by a picture that I hope I will remember to include that had Perette holding a white kitchen knife grinning, while McCallum watched it in concern – the caption was him wondering who let her have his surgical knife. A later picture from the same thing was Her cutting an NCIS cake, so... Pointless drivel that I hope isn't too terrible for a gift... 12-1-2015 _


End file.
